She returned the album to the shelf and went to the kitchen, pausing for a moment as one of the security detail walked back to his post in the hallway. Even though she was glad that Simon had stationed four guards around the estate, it felt like such an invasion, these silent sentinels who were strangers to her, as though there was nowhere she could be truly on her own. But what was even worse was that she was now terrified to be on her own. She picked up her cell phone and dialed her father. He answered on the first ring.

“I was just going to call you,” he said.

“Dad, I’m sorry for yesterday, but we need to talk. I have to know what’s going on. It’s driving me crazy.” She felt bad about the way she’d treated him, kicking him out of her house, and wanted to give him another chance to tell her what he and Lily had fought about. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

He took a minute to answer, then spoke in measured tones. “Your mother had lied to me about something that happened a very long time ago, and she had just told me the truth. I was shocked and, well, to say upset would be an understatement.” He paused, clearing his throat, and continued. “However, what she told me has nothing whatsoever to do with you, and out of respect for your mother, I’m not going to divulge it to you. I hope that you know me well enough to respect my decision.”

Kate’s mouth dropped open. “That’s it? Really?” She stood up and began to pace, gripping the phone tighter. “Are you going to divulge the details to Detective Anderson?”

“Yes. I’m going to call him this afternoon.”

“Very well, then. I guess we have nothing more to discuss right now.” She ended the call.

Kate sat alone for a while, trying to put together the pieces. What had happened to make her mother call Gordon about changing the will? It must have had something to do with whatever they had fought about. Why had he told her that her mother had lied? What was he trying to keep from her now? None of it was adding up. Everyone was hiding things. She felt her anxiety increasing, her mind concocting scenario after scenario. That night at dinner with Annabelle and Simon, she was barely able to hold a conversation. Her mind was racing, and she couldn’t figure out how to stop it. At a little after seven thirty, she put Annabelle to bed, and continued to stew. She made a cup of tea and went into the living room.